


Still out of sight, not out of mind

by WeekendWriter



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chuck Lives, Communication Failure, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies, M/M, Pre and Post Operation Pitfall, Shatterdome Shenanigans, Slow Build, good bit of angst in this one I'm sorry, hint of smut, neither of these doofs know how to communicate and it causes problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8655337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeekendWriter/pseuds/WeekendWriter
Summary: Being forced to suffer through charity events is nothing new to Raleigh Becket, but when seventeen-year-old aspiring jaeger Pilot Chuck Hansen wins a date with him, he thinks maybe this night will turn out to be a good thing given this newfound friendship. Until Knifehead scrambles all of Raleigh's communications and friendship is the furthest thing from Raleigh's mind.
Now, it's come to the end. Operation Pitfall hangs on a thread: will the friendship-turned rivalry get in the way of what they need to do, or will the two come together to save the world?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinipedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/gifts).



> Original prompt can be found [here](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?replyto=3242427)   
> Although I played a bit fast and loose with it and added in a few elements of my own. 
> 
>  
> 
> This one's for trinipedia, who gave me a list of prompts earlier. Sorry it's taken me so long, lovely, but I hope I nailed some of what you wanted, and that you enjoy this one.

The swirling sounds of conversation, the scent of alcohol and just-too-much perfume, the feeling of hot lights at his clothed back – it was definitely a charity event night. Raleigh swirled a glass of scotch in his hand before taking a sip. Thank God, he was finally old enough to drink at one of these events. He’d gotten lucky the few times the PPDC attended ones in countries with lower drinking ages, but since he’d turned twenty-one, he didn’t have to worry about that issue anywhere. 

And there was nothing he needed more tonight than alcohol. Especially if said alcohol was undoubtedly top-shelf. 

A hand reached steadily for one of his shoulders. Yancy swaggered over, all casual grace and carefree smirk. “You ready for the main event, kiddo?”

Raleigh shuddered slightly and took another large gulp of scotch; the burn was a good distraction. “About as ready as I’ll ever be. Fuck’s sake, why exactly did we sign up for this again?”

His brother shifted to fling that arm all the way over his shoulders. “Because it’s for _charity_ , Raleigh. How would the two Gipsy pilots be as _apple pie_ as they are if they didn’t participate in something as _soul-fulfilling_ as charity?” Sarcasm dripped from the over-the-top words, the only indication that Yancy was as fed up with being paraded around as the PPDC’s show pony as he was. 

A passing party guest shot them an affronted look. Yancy straightened his tie and sipped from his own glass. “Whoops.” 

Raleigh couldn’t help but grin in response. Classic Yancy. If he stood any chance of surviving the night with his sanity, he’d have to play catch-up. So he downed the rest of his glass and reached around Yancy’s broad back to snag another one from a passing waiter. These types of black tie events, while as stuffy and pretentious as one would expect, generally kept the alcohol flowing in earnest. They had previously suffered through the regular PPDC talks about not getting plastered at these events, although Yancy was probably going to cut it close with this one.

And as one of the main hosts approached the stage of the room, Raleigh could understand why. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention?”

Raleigh sighed. It was for charity, after all. He took another large gulp of scotch, repeating that mantra in his head, as the host continued.

“I would like to start by thanking all of you for attending this event. With your participation, I estimate that our charity of choice will be set for the next year!”

A firm hand grasped his forearm. Raleigh turned just as acting Marshall Stacker Pentecost tugged what was his third (fourth?) scotch glass from his hands. “Gentlemen.”

Yancy comically tried to shield his own glass by hiding it behind his thigh. One steely look from the Marshall was all it took for the elder Becket to abandon it at a nearby table. 

“I hope the two of you are prepared to honor the PPDC by participating on your best behavior,” Pentacost continued. His threatening gaze had Raleigh anything but wondering what would happen if they weren’t. The thought even seemed to sober Yancy up a bit. 

“So, without further pause, please allow me to introduce the two heroes of the night; the pilots of Gipsy Danger, Yancy and Raleigh Becket!”

Yancy nudged him in the ribs as they ascended the stage and flashed the most arrogant smirk, more to him than to the crowd. “See that, kid? Introduced me first. They know who’s the best.”

“You wish, old man. Let’s see who brings in the most money.”

“You’re on, kiddo. Loser picks up the beer.”

“Deal.”

 

 

Stuffy tuxedo, stuffy tie, stuffy atmosphere. It was all unbearably stuffy and the last place he wanted to be; shit, including in a pile of leftover kaiju guts from a good kill. Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets, staring ruefully at the passing glasses of high-end liquor around him. Old enough to begin his training as a Ranger, old enough to commission work on a jaeger, but not old enough to drink alcohol. Whatever bloody tosser decided that was a good idea, he didn’t know. 

Of course, his father had to come over while he was staring wistfully at the glasses around them. “Don’t even try it, kid.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Chuck grumbled. Besides, he already had his prize for the night. The fists stuffed into his pocket were clutching dozens of raffle tickets. It had taken him a good amount of spending money, and a good amount of recent Christmas money, but he’d purchased enough raffle tickets to give himself a good chance at winning. 

Because the opportunity to win something like this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

It wouldn’t be long now. Chuck clutched the papers in his hands firmly. He didn’t want to miss watching the Beckets in all their glory, up on stage and close as he’d ever been to them, but he definitely didn’t want to be caught dead searching through all his tickets for what he hoped was the winning one.

As he hovered behind Herc’s back, he caught some of the conversation around him. 

“…can’t believe you didn’t hear about it. Yeah, one of the ticket counters was telling me earlier someone bought a large chunk of tickets. Yeah, all for themselves. Can you imagine, being desperate enough for something like that?”

Any embarrassment he felt was quickly smothered by the familiar burn of anger slowly unfurling in his stomach. He opened his mouth to silence the old bugger–  
–when one of Herc’s large hands discretely settled on his lower back. “Yeah, if you call philanthropy desperate, mate,” his father drawled. “Some of us call it human decency.”

While he didn’t need Herc to fight his battles for him, Chuck was grateful for the validity. He’d expected Herc of all people to lecture him on wasting money on something like this, but he was surprisingly understanding about the whole bloody thing. Even more so, Chuck realized, when he felt Herc’s hand slip something into his pocket as the complainer turned away from the two. 

Another handful of tickets.

 

 

Raleigh took to the stage and flashed his most endearing, open smile. It was the one the public liked most; the one he usually reserved for magazine covers and TV interviews. He had this part of fame down pat. It wasn’t that he enjoyed the attention for the ego boost, or even the tail he and Yancy ended up swimming in (although a definite perk). What he enjoyed the most was the fact that the attention showed him just how much people appreciated what he and Yancy did. Sure, the training had been vicious and the fights no less demanding, but knowing that people honestly admired and appreciated what they did made it all worth it. 

The applause was thundering. Yancy wrapped one arm over his shoulder again, a move that always drove people wild, and saluted the audience. The media in particular ate up the closeness between the two, he’d learned (although several sources often took that closeness too far, gross). No, he didn’t expect the public to understand just what it was like to Drift, to let another person into you, mind and soul. It made it easier that it was his brother, but still, having no secrets with someone was no picnic. 

And it was the public that arranged for things like tonight. Not the events specifically, but there was someone out there pandering to the fans that thought creating raffles like these would bring more good press to the PPDC. Even at the cost of its Rangers. 

“Kiddo.” Yancy’s fingers tapped gently at the back of his hand. “Relax. They’re not auctioning us off like cattle. Fix your face.”

He was grinning too hard, Yancy was right. Raleigh shook his head and let out a shaky laugh. Yancy was always right. This was far from the worst he’d faced in the name of the PPDC.

“So, ladies and gents,” the host continued, “please get your tickets ready! Two of you lucky attendees will win dates with these fine gentlemen, paid for completely by the PPDC! Dates will take place at a date and time of you and your suitor’s choosing. Nothing too fancy, of course. Some of that money should make it to the charity.” The crowd laughed.

“I hope I don’t get some old wrinkled bag,” Raleigh hissed gently. 

Yancy only grinned further. “Not like you haven’t ever jumped on that grenade before.” Raleigh made a face. “Sorry to say today’s gonna be no different, kiddo. Not my fault I’m the handsome Becket.”

“It’s a raffle, Yance. It’s all random; that’s the point.”

His brother snorted. “Yeah, right, Rals. Why do you think tickets come at a price? More money, more tickets, more influence on whether you get this hot piece of ass or not.”

“I hope your date’s an ugly gold digger.”

“I hope your date’s that old bitty in the corner.”

“So.” The Host’s booming voice drew Raleigh’s attention back to the event. “Which one of you gentlemen would like to go first?”

Yancy gestured for him to go, but Raleigh held up his hands in a ‘no, please, I couldn’t possibly’ gesture. Loud enough for the crowd to hear, he added, “After you, please. Age before beauty, old man.”

Laughter broke out from audience as Yancy threw him a rueful smirk before stepping forward.

“This first auction is for the older Becket, a charming fellow by the name of Yancy. Born in 1995, Yancy is six-foot, blonde hair, blue-eyed, and all-American as apple pie.” The crowd tittered again; Raleigh rolled his eyes dramatically for comic effect. “Yancy is a true gentleman, an old-school romantic looking for someone to hold tight until the end of days. And that lucky person can be you, with the right ticket, that is. So, folks; get out your tickets and let’s see!”

Raleigh snickered. Yancy awkwardly standing at the front of the stage was something to behold. He knew everything in his brother was telling him to flip him off for laughing, but the cameras would have a field day. So Yancy settled for subtly lifting his middle finger at Raleigh behind his back.

“The winning numbers are: seven, eleven, seventeen, eight, four, and twenty-one!”

A shrill sort of laughter pealed through the room. Raleigh’s gaze followed until he settled on a group of what looked like young, twenty-something women, one of which was hurrying forward. Once she was up close, Raleigh couldn’t help his upper lip from curling slightly. She was the epitome of a jaeger fly; long blonde hair, boobs too-emphasized in a dress not nearly appropriate enough for a black-tie event, makeup just this side of over-the-top. 

Yancy was going to have a field day.

Sure enough, the elder Becket’s lips turned up in a smirk as she approached the stage. He offered a hand to steady her up the stairs and tossed her a casual, “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

The girl practically melted. Raleigh rolled his eyes again. He’d lost track of how many times he’d seen the Becket charm in action. In Yancy’s case, it worked far many more times than not. And as usual, he was getting off easy. He grimaced at the thought of who he’d be paired up with. 

Yancy’s grip on his arm and a quick swat to his ass caused Raleigh to jump as he was hauled forward on the stage. “Go get ‘em, kiddo!”

Stumbling to an ungraceful stop at the edge of the stage was neither a smooth move to ensure a solid date nor a way to prove his finesse as a jaeger pilot, yet here he was. Raleigh recovered with what Yancy called his best puppy-dog grin, all earnest and dopey as he glanced around the crowd. There were several of the standard older donors ambling around the floor as the party waited for his announcement. The rest of the jaeger-fly party was staring at him with wide, over-eager smiles and high-pitched giggles. He shuddered. Not enough alcohol in the world for him to be able to deal with that. 

“Raleigh Becket, the younger of the Gipsy pair, has quite an impressive track record. As one of the youngest pilots to enlist and graduate from the academy, Raleigh has proven himself many times over despite his youth by working up the ranks and being half of the team that has, to date, the highest kaiju kill count.” The host paused and had the nerve to ruffle Raleigh’s hair lightly. “And, just look at that smile. Who wouldn’t want a date with this man?”

It took everything in him not to bite out at the host’s goddamn hand. Pentacost’s earlier glare was effective at curbing the desire, though he couldn’t resist the steely glare he shot the man.

“Uh…” The host paused (likely in response to Raleigh’s deadly glare) before he shook himself lightly and continued. “Right. So. For the right to take this charming young gentleman on a date, be the lucky person to have these numbers–”

He spaced as the host read the numbers. Yeah, he knew these events had a positive effect on a lot of spheres in his life, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t become tired of them. He was looking forward to when he could finally remove the offending fabric around his neck and lay in what was hopefully one of the most comfortable beds in the hotel (eighteen-hundred thread count sheets, yet another perk of the job). All he had to do was suffer through the rest of the night, pick a day and time with whatever unfortunate soul he would be stuck with, and then–

“–ladies and gents, if this is you, please step forward!”

People in the crowd turned to look at one another. Murmuring started slow and rose as time passed, tension filling the air. And then– 

“Congratulations, sir!”

Raleigh’s eyes found the parting crowd and he stopped short. 

The kid heading toward him (and kid was the first word that came to mind, though he had to be more like late teens) looked harder around the edges than most pilots or veterans of war he’d seen. He was just beginning to fill his tuxedo out nicely, though it would probably be a few years until he grew out of the gawky length of his limbs and lost the baby-roundness of his cheeks. His tie was a bit too loose, and the ginger-spiked hair was a bit unruly, but that contrast seemed to work with the black-tie attire. 

He stuck his hand out to the kid when he reached the stage as Yancy had done, but instead of accepting it, the kid simply climbed the steps and stopped just short of his personal space. 

Up close, the kid was even more startling. Blue-green eyes bored into his own, made darker by the black of the tuxedo under him. Raleigh could detect somewhat of a challenge in the depths, though deep down he noticed a bit of uncertainty beyond the swagger the kid had strode up to the stage with. Uncertainty, and a bit of nervousness, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Well, that wraps up tonight’s event! Thank you all for your time, and your patronage, of course!” the host added with a laugh. “Tonight’s collection, along with the sizeable contribution Raleigh’s raffle brought in, is something to be proud of! I know our charity will be grateful of your donation. Feel free to enjoy the rest of the food and drink, and have a good night!”

The kid’s nerves surfaced as the crowd began to disperse and Raleigh found himself more and more alone with him. 

He did his best to smile honestly. “Hi. What’s your name?”

The kid’s eyes narrowed slightly at his smile, but he seemed to have some semblance of manners as he stuck his hand forward rigidly and murmured, “’m Chuck. Chuck Hansen.”

Raleigh took his hand, noting the rough, calloused pads of his fingers and the unmistakable jaeger grease deep under the fingernails. “Hansen? Wait, you’re Herc’s kid, aren’t you?”

Chuck’s lips drew into a tight line, but he nodded his assent. 

He knew how bad it sucked to be under somebody’s shadow; even now, he was referred to more times than he liked as just ‘Yancy’s brother’, so Raleigh quickly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag your old man into this. I met him a while back on a three jaeger drop, but… We’re not here for that, we’re here for you.” The kid’s expression turned a bit confused at these words. “The date – what day works for you?”

The tips of Chuck’s ears turned slightly red; the lovely flush traveled down the back of the kid’s neck as he glanced at the ground, scuffing one dress-shoed toe. “Look, ‘m sorry about this, too. It doesn’t have to be a date. I just…”

The long-suffering sigh the kid made finally clicked everything into place. He was a fan, not just of Gipsy but of _Raleigh_ specifically, and embarrassed by just how much so. The uncertainty from before undoubtedly came from Chuck worrying that Raleigh would be an asshole about the whole thing. Or tease him to no end about the hero worship.

So this grin was nothing but genuine as he reached a hand out to Chuck’s shoulder. “Nothing I’d enjoy more than taking a fan out for a night on the town. I mean that. So, what would Chuck like to do for a rousing evening out?”

Christ, when the kid looked up and finally smiled – were those goddamn _dimples_? He was gonna rival Yancy’s streak with the ladies when he finally came into his prime. 

“I dunno, mate.” Chuck rubbed the back of his neck as he added, “Nothing extravagant, yeah? Not that kinda guy. Figured maybe just dinner, hanging out?”

The earnest tone was killing him. Raleigh grinned further. “Sure, kid. Anything. How’s tomorrow night sound? If you’re staying here, we can just meet in the lobby around six and go from there.”

“Tomorrow…” Chuck’s gaze darkened for a second as he thought, and then brightened. The dimples were back out in full-force. “Ace. Tomorrow sounds great.”

Good thing, because judging by what was happening in the corner of his eye between Yancy and the newest jaeger fly, he was going to want to be anywhere but the hotel room tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you think this is too much?”

Raleigh glanced over his shoulder at Yancy, who was trying to decide between a button-up and a shirt with a blazer. “Depends. Fancy restaurant? Is she a wine-and-dine kinda fly?”

Yancy’s eyes rolled as he tossed the button-up to the side. “At least she’s old enough to wine-and-dine.”

The slew of jokes of the cradle-robbing variety hadn’t ceased since last night, and if Raleigh knew anything about his brother, it was that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. “Come on, Yancy. He’s not that young.”

“Pretty sure it’s illegal for you to tap that in several states.”

After hauling a pillow over his head, which successfully beaned the back of his brother’s head, Raleigh said, “It’s not like I was trying to tap that in the first place. Shit, I’d rather spend an evening with him than that old codger that was eyeing me from the corner all night. And for fuck’s sake, can you wait until we’re about to leave to mess with this girl? I don’t think I need to remind you about the shitstorm that was last time.” 

Last time, being the time that Yancy had brought a girl back, slept with her, never called. Without stopping to consider the fact that he’d brought her to the room they were staying in for the week. Needless to say, Pentacost chewing the two of them out for having to pay for the mess she’d made after breaking into their room was not a pleasant experience. And it wasn’t like it was even Raleigh’s fault. 

The hum he got in response was good enough for Raleigh; yeah, Yancy made mistakes, but he certainly was smart enough to learn from them. Raleigh turned from the closet, abandoning his search for something just… well, he didn’t know quite what. Chuck had said a not-date-date, but it didn’t feel right slapping just anything on for a night out with him. He decided to go with the button-up Yancy had abandoned; it was fancy enough and a deep, dark blue that brought either of their eyes out wonderfully. Or so he’d been told. That, coupled with the jeans that an old girlfriend had told him worked wonders for his ass, and he’d be good to go for the inevitable moment the night was interrupted by the paparazzi. Or moments, depending on how popular a place they ended up at. 

Ignoring Yancy’s snide snickers of “Be safe, bring protection, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do except that you always do because I don’t swing that way anyway” and “remember he’s still a child”, he headed down to the lobby. 

It was still early, Raleigh wanting to arrive sooner rather than later, but as he approached the main lobby, he noticed a striking ginger mop through the crowd. 

Chuck was leaning against the lobby’s check-in counter. The kid’s boots, one crossed casually over the other, gleamed steel at the marble counter wall. The khaki pants tucked casually into them were tight enough to enhance his developing assets, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Chuck was wearing a similar shirt to his, just in a shade of dark green. He looked… considerably older than Raleigh knew he was; Herc had talked about his kid being about five years younger than him, which put Chuck still into his teens, although the surprisingly tall, not-quite-stranger inclined gracefully against the counter looked far older. 

Maybe it was the tougher edge that pushed his looks older. He barely remembered Herc talking about the loss of his wife, and the stress of a military lifestyle on his family. That alone would take a toll on anyone; who knows what else the kid had seen in his short life so far. 

The sharp, intelligent eyes met his, more green than blue today brought out by the green of his shirt, as Chuck turned. “Oi, you’re early.”

“I could say the same to you.” Raleigh paused, taking the kid in with a quick once-over; he’d clearly put as much thought into what he would wear as Raleigh. “You look good.”

The same light blush from yesterday crept over the tips of Chuck’s ears, although the kid tried to hold it together. “Uh, thanks, mate. I would say same to you, but you always look good, so.” Another slight blush, this one creeping down toward the back of his neck.

Sure, he’d heard hundreds of times from hundreds of people about his looks; Raleigh was no stranger to them. Everybody fawned over the Becket boys and their classic good-looks. Even if Yancy was, as he maintained, the handsome Becket, Raleigh still received a lot of attention over his face and his body, especially. He wasn’t shy about it, and, unlike most famous people, was flattered at anyone who appreciated his looks, even if he didn’t reciprocate the feeling. Nothing to make fun of, in his opinion. 

“Thanks.” Raleigh strode to the front and held the door open. “Shall we?”

He wasn’t going to make fun of the kid, but it was entertaining as hell to watch the blush. And wonder just how far he could get it. As Chuck walked through the doorway and Raleigh caught a glimpse of the back of the kid’s neck, which was now a nice red throughout, he chuckled and made it a point to find out. 

They ended up at a place called Gazpachos, closer to a high-end restaurant than a fast food place on the scale. Somewhere Raleigh was sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself and didn’t require a suit, but nice enough to make the night memorable for Chuck. Naturally, the host recognized Raleigh right away and began fawning over him, though thankfully not loud enough for the other patrons to notice. Raleigh humored the attention just long enough and requested one of the more private booths in the back. 

As they seated, Chuck grabbed a menu and eyed said host. “I, uh… thanks, mate.”

Raleigh cocked one eyebrow up as he settled. “For what?”

“It’s gotta be tough, turning down people’s attention whenever you go out anywhere…”

He must have meant settling for the more secluded booth, Raleigh figured. He grinned; the kid’s earnest was showing again. “I told you, tonight’s about you. So, Chuck, where are you from? Judging by that heinous vocabulary, I’d guess somewhere in the Outback.”

Both of Chuck’s darker-ginger brows headed for his hairline. “From a place that actually follows respectable sports, like the real football. Not whatever that pig-skinned bullshit is you heathens call football. And I was born in Sydney; nobody’s from the goddamn Outback, mate.”

Raleigh grinned at the banter. Talking with Chuck was as easy as back-and-forth with Yancy; he could do this for a night, no problem. “So you work on jaegers in the Sydney Shatterdome, then?”

The kid looked somewhat startled. “Yeah, uh… how’d you know?”

His smirk widened. “Might wanna start cleaning your nails if you’re gonna be attending black-tie events, kid.”

“Piss off, Ray. Not all of us have our own personal primping crew.” The nickname had obviously slipped out; Chuck’s eyes widened immediately, like he was waiting for Raleigh to jump at the chance to belittle him for it.

He’d have to do a better job making the kid feel comfortable about things. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. “Primping crew? This is all natural, Chuckles. Some of us got it, some of us don’t.”

Chuck’s what had to be scathing response was blocked by the appearance of their waiter. Raleigh noticed Chuck’s eyes skip briefly and ruefully over the alcohol menu seated in the middle of the table and figured he’d take a chance. 

“Hi, Steve,” Raleigh read from the nametag.” We’ll settle for whatever you have standard for a three-course meal, beef over chicken if you’ve got it, and a bottle of whatever is your most popular red to pair with.”

As he’d hoped, the waiter skipped completely over Chuck due to his decisive nature and bowed immediately out of sight. That, or he recognized Raleigh and didn’t want to make a show of asking Chuck for his I.D.

At any rate, when the waiter brought over and uncorked the bottle and left two glasses, Chuck looked practically ecstatic. 

Raleigh poured out a respectable amount into each glass and, as he handed Chuck his, said, “Normally I make it a point to avoid providing alcohol to fourteen-year-olds, but, it is a special occasion…”

“Fuck you, old man. Just because I’m not close to my thirties already like you–” 

Raleigh laughed. The sound escaped without thought; the entire exchange reminded him of all the arguments with Yancy, when he made it a point to remind his brother how close to thirty he was, even if both of them had plenty of years until they got there. “Man, you might be young, but you’ve got the personality of a disgruntled fifty-year-old retiree.”

“Keeps away the wankers that can’t handle real conversation.” Chuck took an appreciative sip of the wine. “Not to mention I don’t really have time for that, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” He sipped from his own glass, grateful they’d picked a more high-end place once he noticed the quality of the wine. 

The flush was back in earnest; this time, Raleigh noticed the pink spreading down to the open first button of his button-down. Jesus, did this kid blush everywhere? “Not really had a lot of time for friends the past couple years. What with the jaeger work and Dad constantly having us on the move and–” 

As he stopped short, Raleigh noticed the obvious distress in the kid’s eyes. Whatever it was he had been about to say was clearly something big, something that still ate at him with the kind of burning, gnawing loss Raleigh was all too familiar with.

“I understand that more than you might think. I got lucky having Yancy around, but after our father walked out on us when my mother died, I haven’t really had the inclination to let anyone else in.” The words were out of Raleigh’s mouth before he had time to stop and think about them. He took a large gulp of wine, hoping the slight burn would take the sting out of the words. “I don’t really even keep up with anyone from my class at the academy, except for if we end up on drops together.”

Chuck nodded. His fingers worried the stem of his glass absentmindedly, his gaze unfocused, until he finally met Raleigh’s gaze. “My mum died too. I was ten. Happened in the Sydney attack. Kinda what propelled me into working with jaegers, if I’m being honest. ‘m sure it pissed my Dad off to no end that it wasn’t his legacy that got me into it.”

Raleigh copied his nod. While it would be easy to tell the kid no, of course your Dad doesn’t resent you for that, there was no way he could know, and he understood better than most the bitter, disappointing sting of empty, attempted words. “Guess we’re kinda in the same boat, then, kid.”

The redhead snorted and took another gulp; at the rate the conversation was going, they’d need another two or three bottles. “Except for your brother, of course.”

“Yeah.” Raleigh smiled almost wistfully. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do without Yancy. Probably crash and burn, as the elder Becket often reminded him. Time to steer this conversation to better waters, though. “I’d consider you and I friends. After all, I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation this long with someone that wasn’t Gipsy’s AI.”

“Yeah?” Chuck glanced up shyly, reminding Raleigh of just how young the kid was. The dimples were peeking out again.

“’Course.” 

The waiter appeared with their first course, saving Raleigh from having to respond. He asked for another bottle of wine when this one was out, which the waiter went for after re-filling their glasses. The rest of the meal lapsed into more comfortable conversation about jaeger engineering and the academy. Chuck had a lot of questions about life as a pilot, which Raleigh was happy to answer. The kid was fiercely intelligent, he realized, and was going to make one _hell_ of a pilot once he graduated from the program. With highest marks, most likely. He couldn’t remember meeting anyone more suited to pilot a jaeger, and he’d met a good amount of pilots the past few years. 

Warm and full and wine-content, the two left the restaurant once their meal was over, after Raleigh had been forced to stop for another conversation with the host. 

“Seriously mate, that guy was absolutely trying for your number,” Chuck snickered as he pushed through the restaurant’s door. 

Raleigh made a face before he could stop himself. “Guy could be the _owner_ of that restaurant, and six others, and it still wouldn’t fuckin’ happen.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as they continued down the chilly street and added, “Besides. Guy was like, a five at best. In low lighting. No chance.”

Chuck glanced at him as though startled. At Raleigh’s questioning glance, he said, “Nah, just… Didn’t figure you swung that way, mate.”

He shrugged easily. “Never been someone to get hung up on something like gender.” With a start, he realized the only person he’d ever had this conversation with was Yancy, and that was after a particularly jolting memory in the Drift. He’d never had this conversation of his own volition. 

But he needn’t have worried; Chuck mirrored his shrug. “No big deal, I understand that. Just never saw that side of you from all the ads and media. Not that I’m not surprised,” he added quickly. “I know from Dad exactly how bullshit the PPDC’s media campaign is. I’m sure you’re fuckin’ sick and tired of hearing ‘as American as apple pie’.” 

Raleigh chuckled. “One charity event, Yancy and I dared each other to take a shot every time the phrase was mentioned. Don’t think I’ve been that drunk since; not wanting to tempt fate since that night, Pentacost decided not to kill us for some reason.”

The full-body laugh Chuck dissolved into was something to behold; the dimples emphasizing the wide grin, white and perfectly spaced teeth gleaming in the streetlights, normally-furrowed brow finally relaxed in a way that had the kid looking his age. Raleigh let out a breathless laugh of his own. 

After what happened with his family, Raleigh understood better than most the importance being able to cut loose and forget about the past. Judging by the slight lines already forming on Chuck’s still-young forehead, the kid probably didn’t do so nearly enough. Not having any friends to do so with didn’t help. He was glad to be the source of Chuck’s deep, rumbling laugh. If it took all night, he vowed he was going to do it again. 

But the walk back to the hotel was over all too soon, and Raleigh found himself standing outside the lobby’s front doors with a suddenly-nervous-again Chuck. After glancing up at his room and noticing the lack of lights, a fortunate sign that Yancy was likely still out with his newest conquest, Raleigh brought his gaze back to Chuck, who was scuffing one boot lightly against the ground.

“So, Chuck, I guess this is it.” After a brief pause, Raleigh dug around his back pocket for his wallet, producing one of the PPDC-issued cards he carried but rarely distributed. “Listen, what d’you say about keeping in contact after this? Friends are hard to come by; I sure as hell could use one.”

If he thought the kid had been earnest earlier, now was something else entirely. Chuck positively beamed, and Raleigh found himself once again enthralled by the rare appearance of both dimples. “Yeah?” He accepted the card and glanced at it as though he wasn’t sure it was real.

“Yeah. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll be part of the same drop.” A smirk formed of its own volition and he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “After all, I hear your father’s a hell of a pilot.”

“Oi! By the time I graduate, I’m gonna be ten times better than my old man,” Chuck snapped. But he smirked, too, taking the sting out of the words, before he stuck out his hand again. “Thanks for tonight, mate. I’ll talk to you soon, then, yeah?”

Raleigh shook his hand and waved the kid off. He hadn’t been sure how the night was going to go, but as he watched Chuck striding through the lobby, he was grateful for how well it had gone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to anyone about his childhood, his issues with his parents. It felt like some small, festering sore in his chest had been lanced, and replaced by the warmth of friendship. And barring some life-upending event, he had every intent of actually keeping up with the kid.

 

 

Weeks later, Knifehead hit.


	3. Chapter 3

The buzzing movement echoing off the walls of the open bay were like shocks of electricity to his rapidly-fraying mind. It didn’t matter that Raleigh had spent the past five years teaching himself every calming, meditative trick in the book; even standing in the jaeger bay of the Hong Kong Shatterdome was taking apart his mask of calm. 

He was barely aware of Stacker Pentacost talking ahead of him and honed his focus back in. The Marshall was talking about some plan, some end-all run at the Breach, but as he finally reigned in his focus, it took another hit as he glanced across the bay.

Raleigh hadn’t seen that face since it still held some of the youthful roundness. 

Now, the dimples appearing slightly at the ends of that smart mouth were dragged down in an unmistakable frown. Blue-green eyes bored back into his own, glaring their own murderous intent. The scowl was something to behold, something he hadn’t expected that eager, earnest face to produce. But now, the face was as harshly edged as the personality he remembered, twisted further by the lingering sting of loss and hardship. 

Chuck Hansen was glaring at him like he wanted nothing more than to take the jaeger scrap next to him and shove it so far up his ass that Raleigh tasted metal for weeks. 

The Marshall’s commanding voice dragged him once again back to the present. He murmured an empty apology and tuned into the introductions Pentacost was making on his behalf. 

But he couldn’t get that harsh glare out of his mind, couldn’t focus on anything else even after a conversation with Pentacost’s protégé, Mako Mori. Shit, he hadn’t been enough of an asshole that day, the day that felt like forever ago, to warrant the absolute hate bleeding from the younger Hansen. 

That thought hadn’t prevented him from performing his best in the compatibility trials. If anything, his confusion at Chuck’s attitude only fueled his ability to fight. Until it came to Mako, that is. The distraction tripping him up went very much noticed by the intelligent young woman, a fact that she shamelessly used to her advantage. 

Not that Raleigh blamed her. She was very much a strategist, capable of seeing two moves ahead on the board, and despite the lingering confusion and the guilt he felt for betraying Yancy’s memory by signing up for another pilot, he felt a sense of elation when he looked up that first day back in Gipsy’s conn-pod to see her cool, confident smirk across the way. They were really doing this, really suiting up with the mother of all plans to finally end this war, one way or another.

Which made the stinging disappointment of the failed trial all the more painful. 

At least afterward, Raleigh finally got the opportunity to express his anger at Chuck’s unwarranted hatred after hearing the kid verbally tear him apart. With a fist to the kid’s face.   
And other extremities.

He couldn’t help it. The flashes of the kid’s open, earnest smile as he looked at Raleigh like he was the sun while present-Chuck yelled at what has-been and a fuck up he was hurt. Sure, he hadn’t exactly been in the game for years, but didn’t think the kid’s one-awed opinion of him would sour so quickly. Or so extremely. The image of Chuck glaring at him as though he wished Raleigh were dead, clutching his now basically-dislocated arm in the hallway after the fight, would stick in his mind as thoroughly as the image of Yancy’s pained face seconds before he was torn from the conn-pod. 

Raleigh had hoped that the victory in Victoria harbor would be enough to ease at least some of the tension. Not that that was the only reason he had been itching to suit up and participate in the double event. The steady ache in his legs and slow burn of the circuitry was something he had missed, and gaining what he hadn’t realized was a missing partner in Mako was more than worth it to him, but after Chuck’s mere nod of acceptance that he’d been saved by the Gipsy team still left a sour taste in his mouth after such a big win.

So it was just before Operation Pitfall, with the clock counting down his final hour, that Raleigh chased Chuck down in the hallway leading to the drive suit room.

“Hey!” The kid didn’t budge at his ministrations, which only served to anger him more. The last of his patience holding on to the calming methods he so relied on finally snapped. “Chuckles!”

Chuck stopped, his spine ramrod-straight, and slowly pivoted to face him. “Becket.” The grip on his helmet left the item practically shaking.

“I’m talking to you.” Raleigh strode right up to the kid, pressing well into his personal space when Chuck refused to back down. 

“Funny. By now, you think you would’ve smartened up and stopped trying. Piloting solo must cause more brain damage than I thought.”

It was as bad as a slap to the face. Raleigh all but flinched; his own hands clasped in a punishing grip around his helmet. “The fuck’s your problem, kid? Not enough that I embarrassed you in both the hallway and the harbor, now you’re looking to lose another fight right before we’re about to deploy?”

Grudgingly, Chuck seemed to concede that a fight so close to such a dangerous mission was likely not a good idea. “The fuck d’you want, Becket?”

“I’m serious; what’s your problem with me, kid?” Raleigh ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’ve kept to myself this entire time, and yet you still keep glaring at me like I kicked Max or something. I haven’t even seen you in years. What do you want from me?”

“You never fucking called!”

_What?_

Chuck raised his hand as though to throw his drivesuit helmet, then seemed to think better of it. “You never fucking called. Like a goddamn arsehole. I didn’t need your sympathy or your friendship, but you made me sit through it like it was something you wanted, too. Fuck’s sake, I told you things I haven’t told anyone.” The noise from the end of the hall picked up, stealing the kid’s attention for a second. “Whatever. I always felt like it might have been a bloody mistake for avoiding relationships with people, until you proved me right.” With a last lingering glare, Chuck turned and kept on down the hallway. “Try not to fuck this up like you fucked us up. I want Pentacost to return from this mission.”

Fuck. Chuck was right; Raleigh hadn’t ever called him back. The kid had called him not a few weeks after their night out, earnest and excited as the day they’d met, wanting to talk about something he’d achieved at the academy. Likely because Herc hadn’t been available to talk to. 

Fuck.

The time had gotten away from him, and then–

Yancy. Knifehead. The black hole his life became for the first year after. 

Raleigh swallowed with difficulty. 

The kid’s words; they were a complete departure from his earlier sentiment, before the fight. 

_I quite like my life. I want to return from this mission_.

Even in the darkest hour, when he felt like he had no one else to turn to, Chuck had still confided in him like the friend he wished Raleigh had been. He didn’t want to come back from this mission. He’d accepted his role, that going on a bomb run meant certain death for one, if not all, of them. And without any thought, Chuck had accepted that as his role. He was more concerned about making sure Pentacost made it out, if not for the good of the world, than the good of his daughter. 

Because what else did he have to live for?

 _I want Pentacost to return from this mission_.

The kaiju alarm startled Raleigh back into the present. Right. War, bomb mission, all that jazz. But as he entered Gipsy’s conn-pod, strapped in, and gave a pained smile to Mako, he had a hard time swallowing the bile still rising in his throat. 

 

 

If he thought that feeling was bad before, the clawing, insistent feeling of guilt, shame, everything bad under the sun was worse as it rose, threatening to choke him as he listened to Striker’s pilot’s final words, as he watched the explosion that consumed every what-if he’d ever thought, threatened to overtake him in a way he hadn’t felt since–

Since Knifehead. 

The last regret he’d felt this strongly was at all he’d left unsaid as Yancy was pulled from his brain, from his life, forever. 

 

 

The ringing in his ears hadn’t subsided, even by the time Raleigh found himself sitting on the edge of one of the beds in Medical. The thorough radiation tests he had been subjected to after narrowly escaping that other dimension (and he shuddered to even begin to think about that other world; the burning, over-used landscape, the vivid too-bright colors, the unreal beings staring back at him) all came back negative. The brain scans were just as promising, signaling little permanent damage, and more than he deserved, he was told, after piloting solo for the second time. 

He felt it was more than he deserved for other reasons.

It was all too much. The good news kept flooding in, the Shatterdome in a state of elation at the collapse of the Breach, but Raleigh couldn’t relate to the feeling. All he could think of was the detonation at the bottom of the ocean. Chuck’s last words, ringing in his ears like a death knoll. Fuck, if the kid had somehow made it, he could imagine Chuck’s own guilt at failing to do what he wanted; saving Pentacost. Both had been lost to that deep, dark trench. And after his last interaction with the kid, at his own guilt for forgetting about Chuck for so long, he felt a trench as deep and dark opening within himself.

The doctor discharged him, putting him on indefinite medical leave. Not like he would even be able to pilot again, after the neural load he’d been subjected to for the second time. He dressed in the standard PPDC shirt and pants provided and wandered the halls back to his own room. 

Even with the amount of movement around him, of all the people celebrating and cheering at the reset of the War Clock, the ‘dome felt empty to Raleigh, haunted by all those that hadn’t survived. Pentacost. The Kandanovskys. The Wei triplets. And Chuck, most of all. Without thinking, his feet brought him by the Hansen’s bunk. Herc, he knew, was still in LOCCENT, trying to reign in any sense of control as the new Marshall.

He placed a palm to the door. The coldness of the metal seeping into his palm felt like the cold sense of loss lodging itself once again in his heart. He’d been so wrapped up in himself for years, in trying to lick his wounds and recuperated after Knifehead, that he’d forgotten about the good things he could have had. Who knew what his life would have ended up being like had he only called. Maybe Chuck would have been able to pull him out of his slump earlier. Maybe if he’d gotten back on the horse earlier, they would have had more working jaegers to throw at the Breach assault. 

Just a lot of maybe’s. A lot of what-if’s, always, when it came to Chuck. 

Raleigh pressed his back to the cool, welcoming solidness of the steel. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there; hours, maybe days. 

The next thing he remembered was Tendo, skirting around the corner and tripping over his outstretched legs. 

A small smile forced its way to the surface as he took in Tendo’s disheveled appearance and the scowl he threw at Raleigh’s legs. 

The LOCCENT tech looked ready to snip at him before his eyes suddenly widened. “Raleigh, you’re not going to believe this. Come with me.”  
It wasn’t until he had been strong-armed back to the Shatterdome’s control room that Raleigh finally snapped. “Tendo, the fuck’s going on? Why am I back here?”

“It’s Chuck.” Tendo’s eyes were outlined by the kind of deep, dark circles that resulted from pure exhaustion, his normally combed hair disheveled, one suspender barely hanging on from a day-old outfit. But as Raleigh looked, something changed; a reverent sort of hope radiated from his gaze. “We found his escape pod. Chuck’s alive.”


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the tape surrounding confidential medical information, Raleigh had learned that Chuck had suffered several broken bones, including a fractured tibia and several broken ribs, had been burned by his escape pod as a result of it deploying so close to the explosion underwater, but had at least been fortunate enough to escape a nasty case of radiation poisoning. 

For two days, they kept him in a medically induced coma. And it still wasn’t enough time for Raleigh to figure out what the hell he was going to say to the kid. To figure out what kind of magical phrase he could use to stem some of the wild hatred. 

But nothing came to him. 

He’d thought about walking away, forgetting everything that had happened. But if his time on the Wall had taught him anything, it was that running away only made you think your problems were further. The day Chuck came out of the coma, Raleigh thought about staying away momentarily to give himself enough more time to get his thoughts together. But that also begged for someone else to talk to him first, to take away his chance to explain things.

So first thing that morning, Raleigh found himself walking the halls to the medical wing. Herc was still by his son’s bedside; to nobody’s surprise, the new acting Marshall had taken to doing all of his work in the med bay, not leaving for more than ten minutes at a time. He’d even convinced Tendo to set up video feed for the meetings that had already begun post Breach-collapse. 

Raleigh steeled his nerves at the door, bracing for what would probably still be a hell of an argument despite Chuck’s healing state. So when he entered the room after knocking slightly, he was shocked at the small smile the redhead threw his way.

“Come on, Dad. I’m sure medical wouldn’t even notice if you just snuck him in for a few minutes.” Chuck was, no doubt, in the middle of begging Herc to bring Max in. Raleigh knew the staff had expressly forbidden animals in the area for obvious health reasons. What he didn’t know was why Chuck was staring at his Dad with… was that hopeful optimism? Some kind of youthful expression he hadn’t seen since… shit, since the charity date night, was plastered all over the kid’s face. At Herc’s ignorance, Chuck rolled blue-green eyes and turned to him. “Come on, Raleigh. The old man likes you, at least. You can convince him.”

“Not a chance in hell.” Herc grunted from behind his papers without even so much as a glance up.

Raleigh, however, gaped like a fish at the two. Where were the yelling exchanges that had torn through the halls of the Shatterdome not two days ago? Sure, Chuck had nearly died, but Raleigh didn’t expect even that was enough to soothe the tense relations between the two Hansen men. 

Another eye-roll from the kid. “Fine. Then can you at least look in on him, Ray? Dad hasn’t bloody moved from here in two days and if he’s letting my dog starve, I swear, I’ll rip myself outta here and go get him myself.”

His expression softened the moment Herc looked up in concern, conveying the, ‘alright I really won’t but someone please help me out here’ message that the father definitely needed.

What in the fuck was going on?

“I, uh…” Raleigh faltered on his first attempt and collected himself while pausing to rub his face. “Can I talk to you about something?”

At his glance at Herc, who made no move to leave, Chuck snorted. “Whatever you have to say, I’m sure my old man won’t mind.”

“Uh… okay. Well, I just – I really feel like I need to apologize.” Raleigh figured he might as well go for broke. “Before you came back, all I could think about was how bad I fucked up. I should have called, and I know it’s fucked up that it took me until now to realize, and it’s way too little way to late–”

Chuck sat up, eyes narrowing intently. “The fuck’re you on about, mate?”

He paused, completely thrown at the kid’s response. Just two days ago, he’d been on the receiving end of the kid’s righteous anger on the issue. Now he wanted to act like nothing was different–?

“Raleigh.” Herc stood in one quick motion, papers moved to the small table beside him. “Let’s talk in the hallway.”

Stunned, he followed the Marshall outside, well-aware of Chuck’s equally confused gaze following him all the way. The blinds to Chuck’s room were thankfully closed, allowing the two privacy in the hallway.

“Herc, what the hell happened to the kid?”

The elder Hansen sighed. “Nobody else really knows about this yet because I’m still trying to figure out a way to contain it before it gets back to him, but…” Another bone-weary sigh. “Chuck has amnesia.”

What the fuck?

“Doctors say it’s likely the combination of running out of oxygen and banging his head on the inside of the escape pod on its way up.”

“But…” Raleigh was positively reeling. “I… He recognized me?”

Herc grunted. “It’s like a short-term memory kind-of thing. He remembers people he knows. Hell, he remembers significant events of his past but… ask him about anything non-important and he couldn’t tell you. Remembered his mum died when he was around ten, but the second I asked what his mum looked like… Poor kid just shut down. Had no idea because it’d been so long since he’d seen her. He remembers you, knows who you are and what you’re popular for, but…” Herc’s gaze adopted a kind of knowing edge. “There’s no way he has any idea you two planned on keeping in contact. Or didn’t.”

“Why…” Raleigh’s brow narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this, Herc? Why not let me stumble through an apology that reminded him that I fucked up?”

“Because despite what I’ve been hearing from my son for the past five years, I quite like you.” Herc grinned, although it looked more feral than reassuring. “And he did, too; well, before all that…”

“So… you’re not gonna tell him?”

“No. I’m gonna leave it up to you how and when you tell him. If you decide to. Because I still think you’re smart, and I’m trusting that you won’t hurt the little shit.” Another feral grin. “Because I’ll know if you do. And if you think I’ll sit through another five years hearing about how much you disappointed the kid, well; you’ll be in for a real Australian surprise.”

Mumbling about actually needing to find and check on Max, Herc headed down the hall, leaving Raleigh with more questions than he’d started with. He found himself wandering back into Chuck’s room. 

“Oi. What was the old man about now?”

Fuck, if he thought he didn’t know what to say before… “Uh, nothing. Just updating me on how your treatment’s been going.”

Chuck snorted and re-arranged his blankets. “Mate, I know we’re friends, but that’s getting a bit creepy. Old man doesn’t know when to quit.”

Friends. Chuck thought they were friends. 

Raleigh had to admit, having the kid look at him with anything other than open, burning hatred was a step up. And as Chuck played with the hem of the sheets and mumbled, “Glad you showed, though. Dad’s been driving me up the wall with all the attention,” Raleigh practically choked on the kid’s earnest tone. It’d been so long.

Thankfully, he recovered quickly. “’Course, kid. Nothing could keep me away.”

Oh, the dimples were back. Chuck positively beamed at him. “We can catch up on how Pitfall went down, but first, can you do me a favor? Dad’s readings have been all strategic political bullshit; not exactly the best bed-time stories. Could you swing by my bunk and bring me a doona and a few good books?”

“Sure thing.”

 

 

Walking through Chuck’s bunk felt like a violation on all fronts. Especially when the memory of Chuck’s angry shouting before Pitfall forced its way into his memory again. He shook his head to clear it and reached instead for the blanket on the kid’s bunk. It fit into his bag nicely once folded, and he turned his attention to the bookcase in the corner. He wasn’t surprised to note the very thought-heavy works on the shelves; Chuck was one hell of a thinker, after all. 

What did surprise him was what was in the box on the bottom shelf. 

Sue him, he was a curious bastard. 

Folded neatly inside the box were several posters. Upon unfolding one, he practically dropped the box and its contents. Staring back at him, from a large and impressively colored poster was… him. 

Him and Yancy. 

It was a poster from one of the many ridiculous photo sessions of the glory days. Both Beckets dressed down for the public’s pleasure, grinning like two golden lions from where they stood in front of Gipsy’s impressive build. 

Sure, there was a poster of Lucky Seven from the old days, when Herc and his brother had been running as the PPDC’s most impressive pilots, but all the rest of the Gipsy poster’s backs were littered with pieces of tape. They were worn but loved, clearly, and well-appreciated over the years.

Chuck had kept them, even after Raleigh hadn’t called. Even after Knifehead. 

Fuck, if he hadn’t felt like an asshole before, he did now. 

Raleigh quickly folded the posters neatly back in place and set the box at the bottom of the bookcase. 

 

 

“Ace!” Chuck sat up excitedly upon his return. “Thanks for getting those, mate. Only been up for a bloody day and I’m already clawing my own skin.”

“Sure thing.” Raleigh absentmindedly passed the requested books on to Chuck. The kid hadn’t asked him what he meant by his earlier blurted apology, and Raleigh doubted he would. But the guilt still festered like a sore, made worse when Chuck reached for the bed-side table and winced. 

“Fucking ribs – I swear if that goddamn pod hadn’t actually saved my life, I’d be more pissed at the damage it did on the way.”

Raleigh snorted. Okay, so the kid’s humor was the same. And he seemed just as likely to get angry and respond in volatile nature like he used to. How much of this Chuck was the same young Hansen that had been ready to let the fists fly only days ago? “I remember healing up after Knifehead. Thought those harnesses did more damage than good, although if it weren’t for them, I probably woulda pitched forward straight into the ocean.”

“Yeah, mate, I…” Chuck stopped, squinting as if in deep thought. “’s all a bit fuzzy, but… I remember being angry at you after that.” Shit, apparently the kid was more aware than Herc thought. “I couldn’t believe you’d leave after everything the program went through, but – being disconnected from Pentacost like that… I couldn’t imagine it being somebody I loved.” The kid squirmed uncomfortably under his blanket. “I understand, is all I mean. More than I did.” He smiled crookedly and added, “Just glad to see I wasn’t enough of a tosser for you to stop being friends with me.”

Something twisted painfully in Raleigh’s chest. The kid was worried about _him_ fucking up their non-existent friendship, nevermind the fact that Raleigh had already screwed things to hell so bad that they never even had a chance. 

There was no way he could deny Chuck that now, given this second chance. Maybe things would turn out differently. 

“Sorry, kid.” He reached over and ground his knuckles gently into Chuck’s scalp, the way Yancy used to do to him. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily.”

“Oi! Fuck off, ya drongo.” 

To Raleigh’s delight, Chuck flushed a nice shade of pink. It looked much better than the pale demeanor the kid’s skin had in the fluorescent light of the recovery room. “What’s the matter, Chuckles? Who you got in here to impress, anyway?”

Chuck set about fixing his hair, grumbling Raleigh’s way as he did so, before he picked up one of the novels. “If you’re gonna be a whacker, there’s the door. Mind your arse on the way out.”

Raleigh balled up one of Herc’s empty papers and lopped it at Chuck’s head; the glare he got in response was absolutely worth it. 

 

 

The next two weeks were the most surreal of Raleigh’s life. He spent almost all his time in medical, keeping Chuck company while Herc returned to his full duties as acting Marshall. And although he was sure that this, like everything else in his life, would undoubtedly blow up in his face, the other shoe never dropped. Chuck begrudgingly snorted at his bad puns, claiming that he only put up with them because he wasn’t allowed _legally_ to leave the room (which, Raleigh reminded him, was a lie). He only sulked slightly when Raleigh brought his own lunches and dinners in from the mess, which were, Raleigh remembered, marginally better than hospital food. And Chuck didn’t complain the few times Raleigh fell asleep at the end of the night in the chair he’d taken to occupying, even going as far to read aloud to help him sleep (which Chuck would vehemently deny doing the next day).

Chuck settled into his life as though there’d always been a place there for him. Maybe there had been. Even after the first day of physical therapy when Chuck came wincing down the hallways, barking harsh insults at anyone who dared come close to him, he grudgingly softened at Raleigh’s bouncing attitude and terrible jokes. Even then, when the kid seemed to have had it with him, Raleigh held out with the patience he’d learned from the Wall, and Chuck’s rage would finally subside. 

Raleigh hadn’t thought anything of their former relationship until Chuck’s first day back in the mess hall. He was still limping around with the help of a cane, something Raleigh absolutely poked fun at given Chuck’s likeliness to call him an old man, and as Raleigh promised to bring lunch for the both of them, he was stopped by a familiar face in line.

“Oh, hi, Mako!”

She turned her steely, unapproving gaze on him. “Raleigh.” After picking up a tray of her own, she went straight for the kill. “How long do you plan on lying to Chuck?”

Ouch. He’d almost forgotten her no-nonsense attitude since she’d been swamped in meetings and paperwork that threatened Herc’s workload. “I’m not–” The _lying to him_ died in his throat the second her brow shot straight up at him. “Okay, look. This is difficult. I went in to tell him that first day, but… with what Herc said and the amnesia, I just didn’t see the point.”

“You are manipulating him.” Mako turned away long enough to select a sandwich and some fruit. “Do you think he would be acting the same if he knew what you were not telling him?”

“I…” Raleigh swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“And that is not fair to him. He deserves the chance to decide for himself what to think, with all the information present.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Raleigh knew it was painful, how juvenile he sounded, but he couldn’t help it; after getting a chance to know a Chuck Hansen that didn’t wander the Shatterdome looking like he wanted to rip his guts out, he wasn’t willing to give that up. “I don’t want to lose this. After everything, I deserve something–”

Her gaze softened slightly, but it was clear she wasn’t budging. “You had the chance to deserve that. Chuck does not deserve to be manipulated to make up for that now.”

As she left, he sighed in frustration at her retreating back. 

She was right. She was always right; it was one of those things he’d learned after sharing a mind with her. Mako didn’t make it a point to say anything unless she’d gathered all the facts and thought about them for some time. Raleigh envied her ability to do so; thinking ahead had never been his strong suit. Yancy had always reined him in during his most ridiculous ideas.

But he was on his own, now. He’d have to learn to do so for himself. 

As he sat across from the kid, lowering the full trays to the table, Chuck said, “Ace. Thanks, mate. Anyway, I was thinking–” He stopped short before leaning forward in his seat. “You okay, Ray?”

Raleigh started and shook his head lightly. “Yeah, sorry. Just got stuck on something.” He grinned easily to reassure the kid and added, “What were you thinking? Hope you’re not hurting yourself, Herc would never forgive me.”

“Fuck off.” He’d heard the phrase so many times that by now, the words from Chuck felt more endearing than hurtful. “I was thinking, before your face so rudely interrupted me, wanna do a movie night tonight? ‘m finally off the meds, we can have a few beers and watch some shitty action movies, or something.”

“Yeah, kid. Sounds fun.” With another grin, Raleigh teased, “I’m assuming you want me to get the beer?”

“Goddamn it, Ray, I’m twenty-one years old.”

Ignoring that phrase, Raleigh leaned in with a wink. “Normally I make it a point not to provide alcohol for fourteen-year-olds, but I think I can make an exception for a special occasion.”

Chuck flushed as pink as he’d done in the restaurant all those years ago and bristled, “You know, I coulda gotten your ass arrested if I’d shown my ID to that waiter at the end of the night. So show some respect, old man.”

Raleigh laughed. “Fine, fine. I don’t mind getting the beer. You just try to pick an action movie that’s not too shitty. Or else I might just have to disown you.”

The kid forked his fries aggressively. “Oh, it’s on, old man. If there’s one thing I take bloody seriously, it’s my taste in action movies. Prepare to have your mind blown.”

“And I’ll have my own list prepared for when I’m inevitably snoring through whatever you whipper-snappers consider action movies these days.”


	5. Chapter 5

So after escorting Chuck to his weekly therapy session, Raleigh found himself straightening his bunk for his first instance of company, in, well, ever. He hadn’t exactly had time to make friends in the hectic days leading up to Pitfall. And since the mission, a lot of the personnel had taken off, either for personal leave time to spend with families, or in search of new jobs. The halls were becoming more and more empty, which made Raleigh more and more glad for Chuck’s company.

Which he’d never imagine himself thinking.

Not that he could tell Chuck. The little shit was insufferable without Raleigh boosting his ego. But if he were being completely honest, Raleigh couldn’t remember enjoying anybody’s company this much; other than Yancy, of course. He was beyond grateful that Mako had settled into the empty space that had been torn into his mind after Yancy’s death. Her presence and attitude reminded him of the importance of personal strength, forgiveness, and honor; all things he’d forgotten on the endless days on the Wall. Through healing with her, he’d felt more complete than he could remember feeling in a long time. 

But Chuck was a different presence. More like a thorn in his side that he was somehow grateful for. In some ways, Chuck made him want to better himself; Raleigh knew that despite the colorful phrases thrown his way when he teased about it, the kid still looked up to him as a role model. And he always found himself awed at Chuck’s aspirations, at his plans for the future now that the K-War was finally over. Once he was strong enough to forgo physical therapy, Chuck planned to fill the time with engineering studies. The PPDC was, thankfully, still under the impression that the kaiju could somehow find another way into their world, and Chuck was fully on board with being a part of the team to design the next wave of jaegers. 

He was still unsure what to do about Chuck’s amnesia. Some days, it seemed like Chuck was remembering more and more, although the doctors still maintained that he would never remember events small enough like their talk to stay in contact after the not-date. His indecision left him uneasy. Mako would never intentionally sabotage him, but after spending so many years growing up with Chuck in Shatterdomes across the world, he wasn’t sure her loyalty wouldn’t be to him. If he left it too long, she would tell him herself.

A knock at his bunk door startled him out of his thoughts. They’d agreed that his bunk would be the best place to watch since a movie marathon would likely run late, and the idea of keeping Herc up when he had meetings in the morning was less appealing than poking a sleeping crocodile, so he wasn’t surprised when the door opened to Chuck grinning lopsidedly, holding a few packs of microwave popcorn.

“Stole these from the mess.” Chuck hurried into the room with a breathless laugh.

Raleigh rolled his eyes and shut the door. “Trying to get me in trouble again, kid?”

Chuck snorted. “Pretty sure my ass is the one that’d be the only one on the chopping block. Pity, though, since I know you admire it so.” After glancing at the beer on Raleigh’s fridge, he added, “I’ll be stuffed. You actually sprang for the good stuff.”

“Anything for my little Chucky boy.”

“I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep if you ever call me that again, mate.”

He set up the movie as Chuck moved the beer over to the bed (Lethal Weapon, he was pleased to see). Most bunks didn’t come with any chairs or tables since they had the mess hall, so Raleigh had done his best to collect enough pillows to make for comfortable seating for two on his bed. 

As he hopped up to sit beside Chuck and accepted the beer handed his way, Raleigh asked, “So, Herc help you pick this one?”

“Believe it or not, I’m actually partial to 1980’s American action movies.” For once, Chuck replied with something other than his usual sarcastic wit. “Dad had to remind me, but… Mum was partial to them growing up.” After worrying the label on the bottle in his hands, he smirked. “Figured you’d be able to relate to Murtaugh, ya know, since you’re both too old for a lotta shit.”

“You know, when you finally hit my ripe old age and start falling apart, you’ll come back and apologize for giving me shit all this time.”

Chuck’s gaze darkened for a moment. “Feel like I’m falling apart now, mate.”

Raleigh knew physical therapy had been taking a toll on the poor kid. He was lucky to walk at all, but the journey working back up to that hadn’t been an easy one. Raleigh knew as much simply from watching Chuck stumble back to his room after the more rigorous sessions.

“Hey.” Every once in a while, he knew the kid needed some support, despite how much he fought it. “You’re getting better, not falling apart. Besides. We’re supposed to be celebrating that tonight!” He clinked his bottle against the kid’s and took a long sip. 

Chuck rolled his eyes but gulped a bit of his own beer. “Let’s just focus on the movie, you bloody drongo.”

They made it through the first six pack and movie without any argument, just Raleigh laughing at Chuck’s running commentary of the action and characters. It wasn’t until half way through the second movie that it happened.

It, being the most tragically cliché thing that ever happened in Raleigh’s life. 

Raleigh was about to start his fifth beer and reached for the bottle opener between them, only to grasp instead what was an unmistakably warm, slightly calloused hand. Chuck’s head jerked up; Raleigh froze, his mouth slightly open, unsure of what to say. The kid was still volatile at the best of times, so Raleigh blinked slowly and waited for the inevitable punch that was surely coming his way. 

Instead, the bulk on the bed next to him shifted. That broad, roughened hand moved from under his to thread into his hair, effectively grounding him. And then somewhat chapped lips were resting lightly on the corner of his mouth.

‘Lightly’ was not a word Raleigh would apply to anything the kid did; he applied the same steely determination to whatever he did, from working on his jaeger to, hell, even just eating his daily meals. But there was no other word he could apply to the way Chuck was holding him, the way Chuck was leaning ever so slightly into his personal space, pressing just-so to not apply too much force to the kiss.

He’d been worrying about not having enough time to think, to react (an irony not lost on him, he knew he didn’t think things through much) but this was more a chance than an actual move. Chuck’s solid bulk was still far enough away that, should he choose to, Raleigh could easily push him back and the night could go back to what it was. 

Raleigh tipped his head sideways into a genuine kiss, and that was all the affirmation Chuck needed to move forward. The kid gingerly advanced, beer forgotten on Raleigh’s bedside table so that he could crawl slowly up the length of Raleigh’s body. 

The grip on his hair tightened. Chuck tipped his head back for more access to Raleigh’s neck, which he shamelessly took advantage of, nipping and sucking small marks into the smooth expanse of skin there. Raleigh gasped and bucked up; Chuck took that opportunity to plant another kiss, this time slipping his tongue insistently beside Raleigh’s. 

This was… well, extremely unexpected was an understatement. _Think, dumbass, think_ repeated like a mantra in Raleigh’s brain, but damn, could the kid kiss. The slow, torturous licks and nips at his mouth were short-circuiting his brain worse than the electric feedback from Gipsy’s damaged conn-pod. 

All thoughts other than, _Chuck, Chuck!_ (which tore out of his throat as words seconds later) flew from Raleigh’s mind the second Chuck palmed the front of his sweats down and wrapped those steady fingers around his cock. 

He was pretty sure the cheeky bastard had skipped a few steps, but Raleigh couldn’t bring himself to care when Chuck used his other hand to tear his shirt up and over his head. Raleigh returned the favor, pausing only to stroke his hands up what was a surprisingly broad back for a kid. And Jesus, he really should stop referring to the guy as a kid, if the feeling of Chuck’s own hardness digging into his inner thigh was anything to go off of. Fuck, not like he had to just sit there and guess; with determination, Raleigh pulled at Chuck’s own sweatpants, feeling Chuck groan into what was now a spectacularly filthy kiss as he wrapped one hand around Chuck’s erection. 

Another grunt and Chuck grabbed for his hand, pinning it above his head before grinding down forcefully once. Raleigh cried out at the sensation of the other man’s cock against his own. Fuck, if anyone was in the hallway – but he didn’t care one bit as the friction built, Chuck’s the muscles in Chuck’s straining back working fluidly under his free hand.  


It had been far too long since he’d felt anything like this, a fact he was reminded of when he realized that sweet pressure was already building. 

“Chuck, I need–”

Chuck swallowed the rest of his request with another sloppy kiss, stealing the air from his lungs while he was at it, and sped up his thrusts. Before he could issue any type of warning, or fuck, award at what’d been a spectacular if not high-schoolish rub, Raleigh was coming with a cross between a shout and a cry. This time, Chuck let the sound go unchecked, even having the gall to smirk at the noise as he thrust once, twice more and followed Raleigh over the edge. 

He should… Raleigh felt he should be more upset about the sticky mess rapidly cooling on his stomach, but all he could do was mirror Chuck’s gasps for breath. He also should feel more concerned about what just occurred – hell, he hadn’t even been aware Chuck was gay, or bi, or, whatever – but all he could feel was the bone-deep satisfaction of, well, a good bone. 

He snickered. 

Chuck huffed a laugh in response. “Fuck, if I didn’t feel like enough of a teenager before.”

“Sorry. ‘s been a while, if that’s any–” Raleigh ‘oomf’d in surprise as Chuck kissed away the semblance of an apology he’d been forming.

Well, the kid had a point. No use worrying about that, not when there was such warm, post-orgasm satisfaction to be enjoyed. He didn’t even stir as he felt Chuck’s bulk slide from the bed. Though there was slight protest when the cold, wet washcloth rubbed at his soiled abdomen, sue him. Then, Chuck’s weight was pressing against his chest again, and Raleigh turned into it, asleep without any more thought.


	6. Chapter 6

There were hands at his back. At his front, too. Come to think of it, there didn’t seem to be any area of his skin not covered by equally-warm, taut skin. Raleigh shifted through the early-morning haze, rubbed one eye lazily, and froze. 

Chuck Hansen was wrapped around his middle. 

Chuck… 

Shit. 

The memory of last night slammed into him, effectively ending any lingering gratification he felt from last night’s… session. With Chuck. Chasing vehemently after that was the insistent guilt at having lied to the kid about their friendship and at the truth he was still actively choosing to hide, as Mako so nicely reminded him.

Mako. She was gonna kill him. 

Hell, he should kill himself first for making such a shitty decision. Chuck deserved so much more; he’d been nothing but a good friend. And here Raleigh was, taking advantage of the situation he’d been dealt. Taking advantage of Chuck’s friendship. Fuck, taking advantage of _Chuck_ , honestly. 

Fuck. He was practically hyperventilating at this point. Carefully, so as not to wake the kid, Raleigh extracted his limbs and rolled to the floor. Good call staying here, clearly. It wasn’t as though he could just sneak back to his own bunk. 

Sneak. Like the slippery bastard he so clearly was. 

Raleigh rubbed his face and quickly dressed. Thinking was so not his strong suit; he needed time to think through this. Judging by how soundly (and adorably, he thought absentmindedly) Chuck was snoring, he’d have a few hours to get his shit together and decided what to do before the kid was finally awake. 

He made it out without the bunk door alerting anyone to his presence. The jaeger bay, that’s usually where he went to think. He started down the hallway–

–and as he turned a corner, promptly ran smack into Mako.

No, no, no, no no-no-no-no-no–

“Hello, Raleigh.”

“I’m–” He pointed feebly over his shoulder in the direction he’d been heading and edged that way. “Sorry, gotta take care of this. Rain check?” Wincing internally, because _rain check, you idiot?_ , Raleigh hurried down the hall to escape. Because if the tingling at the side of his neck was any indication, Chuck had left what were going to be a few spectacular hickeys that he hadn’t even thought to cover up. And he wasn’t quite ready to die by Mako’s hand yet today.

Before long, he was settled on top of the catwalk overlooking the jaeger bay, feeling as though he could finally breathe for the first time that day. 

He couldn’t believe himself; twice, now, he was gonna fuck up a friendship with Chuck. True, the kid had seemed to want what happened. Hell, Chuck had been the one to initiate whatever had happened between them last night. But Raleigh had no idea exactly what the kid was expecting here. Was he wanting a relationship? Was that why Chuck had been trying so hard over the past week to limit his outbursts, to try to keep him around long enough to progress the friendship they had into something else? Or was this just a quick-and-dirty, scratch the itch kind-of thing?

Hmm. He was surprised to feel sort of gaping disappointment at the second option. Thinking about Chuck just using him to get off in that way kinda stung. Bitterly.

Shit. When did he develop feelings for Chuck Fucking Hansen?

Sure, he’d always thought the kid to be handsome, even at the age when he was more gawky than someone to gawk at. Now, though, Raleigh could see all of his predictions about the teenage Chuck were right; he’d filled out, that chest and back broadening into something you could _definitely_ hold onto (and he knew that for sure now). And those hardened-but-lovely blueish-greenish eyes under long, ginger lashes hadn’t lost their steel, nor their intelligence. 

When had he become the type of person to notice someone’s fucking _lashes_? He swore he could distantly hear Yancy’s laugh in the Drift at how gay he sounded now. 

_Fuck off, Yance_. 

This was serious. 

Okay, so maybe he’d developed feelings for the insufferable, adorable shit-head Chuck had become. That wasn’t anything too startling. And judging by how much Chuck seemed to enjoy having him around, that feeling being reciprocated wasn’t too abstract an idea. 

But the fact that he hadn’t been honest with Chuck from the start – that was surely going to throw a wrench into things. A big, jaeger-sized wrench that might be enough to tear whatever this was between them – and, shit, even their friendship – apart. Raleigh twisted nervously. That was far from the last thing he wanted, but…

Screw this. Chuck had been right before. He ran after Knifehead, ran after his problems came to haunt him and although he still held that it was justified, that no one could immediately come back from something like that, Chuck was right. Problems wouldn’t go away simply because they were ignored. Mako was right, too. Chuck deserved much better than being manipulated, and the last thing Raleigh wanted was for Chuck to feel that way. 

He needed to tell Chuck before anyone else did. 

 

 

For the first time in days, Raleigh felt like he finally had what he was going to say worked out in his head. He hoped Chuck would be in a listening, forgiving mood, that he would have enough time to say all he needed to say once Chuck was awake and part of the living again.

He should have hoped for so much more. 

Raleigh pushed the door open quietly and froze once he turned to face his room. 

Chuck was already awake, dressed and seated at his desk chair. The bedhead would have been adorable if it wasn’t sitting above the threatening scowl he hadn’t seen in weeks. His arms were crossed, a dangerous sign. “Fancy you coming back.”

“I–”

The kid steamrolled through the sentence that was forming, pre-meditated or not. “You know, if you’re were gonna fuck-and-run, you shoulda done it somewhere other than your own bunk, you fuckstick. Imagine my bloody surprise to wake up and find you’d flown the coop. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; you were always a fucking runner. I dunno why I expected to be different to you. Have a good fucking day washing your sheets, _Ray_.”

Everything he’d been told from others, everything he’d remembered from Chuck before, and everything he’d learned the past few weeks all told him to stop, to let the kid go when he was this worked up and angry because it was a fool’s errand to try, but shit, the way the kid made him feel was close to feeling like a fool, right? 

Chuck made to push past him. Raleigh reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back from the door and further back into the room. Those changeable blue-green eyes widened before narrowing into another hazardous glare. He anticipated the first punch Chuck threw his way, blocking the effort easily, but the right-hook caught him off guard, sending his senses reeling momentarily. 

“Jesus, kid – will you just stop for one fucking second so I can talk!?” Raleigh rubbed his jaw ruefully, even though he probably deserved it, a snide voice in his head supplied. 

“No! I’m done listening to your fucking dumb voice, done watching you and your stupid hair. I’m done pretending your stupid fucking looks mean anything other than–” Chuck paused, his eyes wide.

Shit, the kid was in just as deep as he was. The thought strengthened him, and before he could think about it, the words were all out. “I ran because I lied, Chuck. I didn’t think I deserved a chance at this, at any of this, so I lied to you. That day all those years ago, the day you won the date with me – I promised you I’d stay in touch, that we’d be friends, and I never did. And I lied; yeah, Knifehead sucked and I wasn’t myself for a long time after that, but the truth is, I was afraid of letting anyone in. I had your number and I didn’t call because I was afraid to let you be my friend. And then I met you again here, and fuck, you grew into everything I thought you would, and you absolutely hated me. I couldn’t even remember why until you yelled at me and then detonated that fucking bomb, and I thought I lost everything again. And then you came back and I had a shot at apologizing but then…” 

Raleigh trailed off, taking the time to rub his eyes before delving back in. “Then Herc said you had memory loss, and I… I took advantage of that like an _asshole_. I figured if you didn’t remember hating me, or why you hated me, it was like a fresh start. We could be friends, and letting you in felt so good. And then last night happened, and fuck, if I didn’t feel like an asshole enough already. If I’d told you from the start, if I hadn’t manipulated you, then last night probably wouldn’t have happened. So yeah, I freaked out when I woke up and ran off. But only because I was afraid again. And fuck, I didn’t even deserve any of this to begin with–”

Chuck rushed forward again. Raleigh tensed, ready for the jerk to push past him for the door again, and this time he wouldn’t stop him; he could hardly blame the kid for storming off in a huff, knowing now that Raleigh had been lying to him this whole time. Hell, if Chuck didn’t throw another punch, he’d punch himself. 

So he just stood still, gripped in shock, as Chuck barreled into him, grasping his face with strong, sure hands before planting a kiss on his lips. 

“I…” Raleigh was absolutely incoherent when Chuck pulled away, breathless. “Wha…?”

“You absolute, bloody fucking _drongo_.”

Raleigh tilted his head. “Come again?”

“I knew.”

He didn’t blame himself for the double-take. “You wha…?”

The kid chuckled, a low sound that Raleigh felt vibrating through his own chest. “I knew, mate. I don’t know what Dad did or did not tell you about my brain, but… That date, I definitely remember. I got to meet one of my idols; what part of that wouldn’t stick in my mind as a major memory?”

Raleigh frowned, his brain struggling to catch up to wherever it was Chuck was leading. “Then why…?”

“How was I supposed to know you didn’t know I knew?” Chuck shrugged. “Your fucking face going into Pitfall, mate. Couldn’t get it out of my mind. Pretty sure Pentacost was shaking his head at me the entire Drift.” He chuckled again. “Yeah, I was a right bloody prick, but I was pissed. Gave up on the whole friend thing after our bullshit but… Then I lived. I came out of it and I saw you in medical, and you looked so… hopeful. Even after I’d been so cranky to you, you looked like you were glad to see me again. I figured, if anyone could get me to believe in friendship again, it was you. So when you didn’t say anything more about the date, I thought you knew I already knew everything about it. And then we became friends and it just…” Chuck blushed, the lovely pink reaching down his chest. “Brought out some old feelings I’d been holding on to, I guess.”

“Wait just a fucking minute.”

Chuck frowned as Raleigh gripped his sides tightly and demanded, “I’ve been worrying over nothing this whole time? You mean to tell me we could have been having ridiculously mind-blowing sex from residual teenage hero worship this _entire_ time?” 

The kid released his grip and groaned. “Fuck off, Ray. Clearly I’m not the only one holding onto some old feelings.” More seriously, he added, “Besides, you’ve seen me and my old man communicate. You really think we were gonna be any better?”

“I think we can do better.” Raleigh pressed a soft kiss to Chuck’s lips. “After all, friends always find some way to communicate the important things.”

“Just friends?” Chuck glanced down shyly. 

The earnest was back again. Raleigh grinned, grateful that he could admit just how adorable he truly found it. “Well, I think whatever this is, it’s gonna take some time and some good communication to figure out.”

Chuck grinned, flashing the dimples Raleigh had come to love so much. “Well, good thing I ended up getting the rest of my life to figure that out.”

“Absolutely good thing.” Raleigh tipped them back toward his bed. They had all the time in the world to talk through the past few weeks, but right now, he wanted to keep to his years-old promise of figuring out exactly how far that lovely blush could spread.

 

 

And if Mako spent all day looking for him, stopping only when she heard the unmistakable sounds of both men coming from Raleigh’s bunk across the way, she found she couldn’t be mad. It seemed Raleigh had finally gotten over what was holding him back, and Chuck had been just as perceptive as she’d thought. 

She’d have to thank Hercules for taking her advice and telling Raleigh of the amnesia in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to those of you who stuck along for the ride, this is the longest, most complete fic I've posted at once, and I really hope you all enjoyed it! Much love.


End file.
